Golden Armored War God Hawking Makes His Debut

"Time to get to work!"

Leaping across the rooftops, which were generally not very tall, Hawking began searching for a crime that suited the identity he wanted for his debut.

For his first appearance, he couldn't just deal with petty thieves like before. That would be far too underwhelming.

As one of New York's poorer districts, the Bronx naturally did not have skyscrapers everywhere like Manhattan. Most buildings were only five or six stories tall, allowing Hawking to see everything happening below more clearly.

Fights, brawls, thefts, even murders—such things were hardly rare in the Bronx. In the single hour Hawking had spent searching, he had already seen no fewer than eight incidents.

Yet he had not intervened even once, because none of them met his requirements.

He knew very well that he was no true champion of justice, and he also knew exactly what he wanted.

There were far too many crimes happening in this world. He could not possibly handle every single one, nor could he blame himself whenever something happened simply because he had not stepped in. That way lay a mental breakdown sooner or later.

The principle he had always followed was this: if he saw something bad happening and chose to help, it had to be out of his own free will.

Perhaps it was compassion or pity; perhaps it was because his interests demanded it. But it could never be forced.

If he chose not to help, there was no need to feel guilty.

Because the one responsible for the consequences was the perpetrator, not him, a mere bystander.

Respect others' fates, let go of the compulsion to help, and avoid indulging in self-righteous sentimentality.

That saying sometimes sounded cruel, but it was also a form of self-protection. Otherwise, not only would he exhaust himself, he would also drag down the people who truly cared for and loved him.

Especially now, when he was in a dangerous world like the Marvel Universe, and in a place like New York where incidents happened constantly.

Likewise, if he encountered danger himself and someone helped him, he would be grateful. If nobody helped, he would not resent them. The person he should resent was the one who had put him in danger.

"Found it. A good old-fashioned bank robbery!"

After an hour of moving around, he finally spotted a crime that met his requirements on a major street in the South Bronx.

Inside a speeding van, four vicious robbers armed with submachine guns were wildly firing at the police cars chasing behind them.

Facing officers who could only return fire with handguns, they showed not the slightest fear.

One of the robbers even opened the van's sunroof and climbed out holding an RPG.

"Boom!"

As the robber pressed the launch button, the police car closest behind them instantly became a ball of fire.

"You're risking your lives for that pathetic monthly paycheck?"

The robber laughed arrogantly before ducking back inside.

Whether they feared the robbers' overwhelming firepower or had been intimidated by several police cars being blown up in succession, the police vehicles behind them clearly no longer dared to pursue so closely.

If the van escaped their line of sight, then in the chaotic South Bronx, finding the robbers again and recovering the stolen bank money would be virtually impossible.

It was 2003, and this was not bustling Manhattan. There were not nearly as many surveillance cameras on the streets.

"Once we shake those cops, drive to the planned transfer point. We'll switch vehicles there, then head back and split the money."

The leader of the robbers set down the RPG, pulled open the five large bags inside the van, and laughed loudly as he looked at the stacks of US Dollars within. Then he gave the order to the young driver.

The other robbers immediately seemed to be pumped full of adrenaline. Their submachine guns poured out fire wildly, slowing the pursuing police cars even further.

Yet just as they thought they were about to shake off the police completely and end the robbery perfectly, a golden figure suddenly descended from the sky and landed directly in front of them.

"Boss!"

The young driver instinctively went for the brakes, but the leader in the back immediately roared:

"Run him over!"

They were in the middle of a life-or-death race with the police. If they stopped now, they would be in serious trouble.

Besides, this van had been modified beforehand. It was far sturdier than an ordinary van. Knocking a person flying would be easy, and there was no need to worry about damaging the vehicle.

"Stop!"

Facing the van hurtling toward him at full speed, Hawking showed no surprise. He circulated his qi through his body and, with only one outstretched hand, easily forced the van to a halt.

Then, after stopping it, he flipped upward with his hand and sent the van carrying six vicious robbers spinning through the air two and a half times.

In truth, if he had wanted to deal with these robbers quickly, there was no need for such trouble. A single long-range qi blast from the rooftop earlier would have blown the van to pieces.

But that was not the result Hawking wanted. No one would have seen him; they would only think that someone had fired another rocket.

Sure enough, the sight of him descending from the sky in golden armor and flipping the robbers' van instantly drew the attention of citizens by the roadside, who had just been frightened moments ago. The bolder ones had already begun recording with their phones.

"Damn it! Die, freak!"

The overturned van had clearly not robbed all the criminals of their ability to fight. The robber leader, his face covered in shards of glass, kicked open the door with another robber. They raised their submachine guns and unleashed a barrage of rat-a-tat-tat fire at Hawking.

"That's it?"

A sneer appeared on Hawking's face. His hands instantly turned into a blur as he caught every bullet fired at him.

The Crane Hermit, with a Combat Power of 120, could catch the bullets Launch fired with his bare hands. Hawking's Combat Power was now over 140, so naturally, it was even easier for him.

"How is this possible?"

The two robbers, their magazines empty, stared dumbfounded as Hawking opened his hands and bullets fell one after another to the ground.

The leader tried to turn back and grab the RPG from inside the van, but before he could do so, pain flared in his back and he collapsed unconscious.

Hawking had struck and knocked out both robbers.

As a righteous Super Hero, he naturally could not appear overly brutal. Knocking them out was enough. If he were going to kill, it would definitely have to be when no one was around.

Meanwhile, the police officers who had nearly been left behind finally drove over. When they got out and saw the overturned van and the unconscious robbers, they froze for a moment before immediately drawing their handguns and aiming them at Hawking.

"Don't move! Hands up! Who are you?"

"God of War."

Deliberately using an Amplification Spell to leave behind a thunderous self-introduction, Hawking instantly loaded the Goku Template and shouted into the sky:

"Flying Nimbus!"

Under the stunned gazes of the police officers and the citizens watching from the roadside, he leaped into the air, landed atop the Flying Nimbus, and vanished into the sky.

Naturally, a name and a slogan were necessary, and it was best to announce them himself in advance. Otherwise, if he waited for the public to name him, who knew what it would turn into?

Although shame had flooded his heart when he said those words, he still gritted his teeth and delivered them for the best possible effect, using a solemn, majestic tone as though he were a god.

It could not be helped. Most ordinary people in this world loved that sort of thing.

And they could understand the title God of War. Like War God Ares, it was also the name of a deity from the Western mythological system.